Last month was my third half Ironman of 2012, Rev 3 Portland. I’ve gotta say, I’m really enjoying the Rev 3 race series and highly recommend them to athletes who want a challenging race that’s well run. I hope the Rev 3 series gets more popular since I wouldn’t mind more competition for WTC–right now, only a few hundred people seem to turn out for each Rev 3 race, but hopefully they’ll start gaining momentum. Anyway, onto the race report. I had just done Honu 70.3 the month before and started off my season with Rev 3 Costa Rica in March, so I had been training and racing for quite a while by the time Portland rolled around. When I did the race last year, I was overweight, injured, and out of shape but still managed to have a decent race because the course was flat and fast. This year, however, the organizers changed the bike course to a hellacious hillfest, with four Category 5 climbs (which are apparently the hardest climbs you can rank before the hills essentially just become bullshit mountain terrain). Rev 3 touted the new course as their toughest and most technical one on the circuit. Oh goody. Jason, his deaf dad Jim, his sister Danielle and I went to registration (Danielle was doing the Olympic distance race while Jason and his dad were doing a half Ironman relay with one of Danielle’s friends), then all hopped in Jim’s SUV to drive the bike course. Upon seeing how ridiculous these climbs were and hearing how the car’s engine had to grind to get up them, I couldn’t help but laugh. This course was absurd–full of long, steep climbs and really windy descents that could be quite treacherous if you weren’t cautious. It definitely was not going to be a PR bike split kind of day, but I looked forward to the challenge since I had gotten better at climbing lately. I was only worried about the descents and making sure I stayed cautious and that nobody around me was going to do something stupid that would end up getting me hurt. Jason’s dad, meanwhile, was trying to watch the course like a hawk and study it as best as he could because he was going to be doing the bike leg for the relay team and “didn’t want to get lost.” We informed him that the course is ridiculously well marked with bright pink signage, so he started paying attention to every single thing that was pink and tried to commit it all to memory. Unfortunately, that backfired somewhat: Jim: “Okay, so we go straight here…” Jas: “Ugh, Dad, you’ll be fine.” Jim: “I just want to be sure!” Jas: “If you manage to get lost on this course with how well-marked it is, then you fail at life.” Jim, laughing: “Okay, okay…wait, so then we turn right into this neighborhood.” He pointed at a neon pink sign. Jas: “Dad, that’s for a garage sale!” Jim: “Oh.” Jas: “Do NOT follow that sign. Or blindly follow things that are pink.” Jim: “Well then they shouldn’t have made that garage sale sign pink! Now I’m confused!” Once we all got done laughing at him, we assured him he’d be fine. Swim Summary When race day rolled around, we headed to the venue and I got my transition area set up. My bike was racked right next to bike out/in, which was super awesome. Also awesome was the fact that transition was actually in the park this year–no running over a half mile across the street to the transition area like we did last year. The transition...

Sweet fancy Moses, I’ve made it to my pre-Ironman taper. It’s that glorious week where you only have a crap-ton of workouts on your schedule instead of the usual ass-ton. Unfortunately, it’s also that time leading up to the race where you go through your “taper tantrum,” a whirlwind of emotions and paranoia where you overanalyze every little mundane thing and make it out to be a bigger deal than it is. Below are things that have gone through my head this week during my taper tantrum: I feel feverish–I MUST BE GETTING SICK My throat is kind of scratchy–I KNOW I’M GETTING SICK I’m feeling a little tired and rundown–I HAVE MONO, IT’S THE ONLY EXPLANATION My left Achilles has been nagging me–THE TENDINITIS IS BACK AGAIN, NOOOOOO I feel fat–I’M NOT GONNA FIT IN MY WETSUIT OR BE ABLE TO HAUL MY LARD-ASS UP YELLOW LAKE I haven’t been swimming enough lately–I’M GONNA DROWN ON RACE DAY There have been a couple triathlon swim deaths in the news–I’M DEFINITELY GONNA DROWN ON RACE DAY My bike’s shifting has been a bit wonky lately–MY BIKE’S GONNA BREAK IN HALF ON RICHTER I was tired during my last long run–I’M GONNA HAVE TO WALK THE ENTIRE MARATHON Dr. Perry mentioned I was a bit dehydrated–OH SHIT, I’M TOTALLY SCREWED My wetsuit ripped a bit before the Friday Night Swim–I’M GONNA HULK HOGAN THE DAMN THING WHEN I TRY TO PUT IT ON BEFORE THE RACE I had a bad swim at the Friday Night Swim Race–THEY’RE GONNA HAVE TO FISH ME OUT OF THE WATER DURING THE SWIM PORTION AND TN MULTISPORTS WILL DISOWN ME Teresa wants me to have a good race–OH GOD I DON’T WANT TO LET HER DOWN, SHE’LL BE SO DISAPPOINTED Feet felt a bit crampy after the drive up–I HAVEN’T BEEN STRETCHING ENOUGH, MY MUSCLES ARE SO TIGHT THIS IS NO GOOD The race day weather report keeps changing–OH SHIT I’M GOING TO BE UNDER/OVERDRESSED AND WILL FREEZE/ROAST I DON’T EVEN KNOWWWW Thankfully, this article popped up at the right moment, telling me to get the fuck over it and reminding me that I’ve done plenty of training and I’m ready as I’ll ever be for Sunday’s shenanigans. With less than 24 hours until the Big Effin’ Race, it’s all about serenity now, serenity now (hoo-chie ma-ma and insanity later, of...

It’s been a long season for me–my first race was Rev 3 Costa Rica back in March and I’ve done races in May (Mt. Rainier duathlon), June (Honu 70.3), July (Rev 3 Portland), and am currently sitting on my ass waiting for Sunday to roll around so I can cap off my triathlon season with Ironman Canada. Several months of training means several months of riding, and this year Teresa seemed especially intent on destroying my nethers by assigning me a stupid amount of century rides. Here’s a rundown of the 100+ mile rides I’ve done this year: 1. Flying Wheels Flat Tires: 1 (me) Got lost? No Bonk Factor: 4/5 I already wrote about this ride, so I’ll just reiterate again how crappy it was. Of all the centuries I did this year, I think this one was the hardest–it was just one of those days where nothing really went right. It was kind of cold out, I got a flat tire, rode by myself for a bit until I caught up with my teammates, and struggled in the back stretch of the course. The highlight of that day was getting cookies from Alley for giving her husband Bill (one of my teammates) a ride home (yaay, cookies). Also, the team camaraderie made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, so at least we all suffered together. All in all though, it was a tough day, moreso mentally than physically, but isn’t that usually the case with endurance training? 2. Coeur d’Alene Ride Flat Tires: 1 (Coach T) Got Lost? No Bonk Factor: 3/5, then 5/5 This was the glorious ride where Jason’s deaf dad shot down a hill and forced me to chase after him. The workout after that was kind of ball-kicky since I was riding with three people who were all way faster than me. Teresa got a flat tire but we managed to stay on course (we rode the old Ironman Coeur d’Alene course, which I enjoy 152% more than the new course). I felt alright but a little tired from chasing after Team Fast for a few hours, but after a long break where the group hit up the Ironman expo area for a while before Vicki and I headed out for my last hour of riding, I was spent. I watched Vicki get further and further ahead of me as I started to feel woozy and tired, wanting off the bike forever and thinking that whoever thought up the idea of riding over 100 miles deserved to get buried up to his head in sand and have a large, sweaty man t-bag his face for six hours. Surprisingly, my transition run afterwards went fairly well, but overall the ride was a mixed bag. 3. 7 Hills of Kirkland Route Flat Tires: 1 (Aimee) Got Lost? Yes, gloriously so. Bonk Factor: 1/5 For this ride I met up with Gary, a teammate who was training for RAMROD (Ride Around Mt. Rainier in One Day), and Aimee, who was also training for Ironman Canada. Gary wanted to do the 7 Hills of Kirkland century route so he could practice hills. I mentally punched Gary in the face 15 times, then we took off from Kirkland. Aimee had some problems with her rear brake rubbing and later got a flat tire, but the ride went relatively well for a while… …until we missed a turn and got off course, ending up in effing Monroe. Both of them were following me and I tried to play it cool despite the fact that I hadn’t seen a course marking in quite a while, but I figured that...

When I was in Coeur d’Alene for the Ironman, Jason was staying off his feet and prepping for his big race while I had a big training weekend on my schedule. Coach T scheduled a century ride and a short brick run for the day before the race, but since I was volunteering at bike check-in that day, I wasn’t going to be able to cram in volunteer duties and a six hour ride. I ended up having to slog out 100 miles on Friday, but nobody was interested in riding the full distance with me (sad trombone) so I organized a “Bec-share” program: Jason’s dad Jim would ride the first two hours with me and then I’d meet up with Teresa, Paul, and Vicki to bust out the last four. I’d be like the Stanley Cup of TN Multisport athletes, getting passed from one cyclist to the next (uh, in a non-slutty manner). Jim wasn’t interested in doing anything too strenuous because he rode with us the day before, so we took off at a fairly easy pace and did the beginning part of the CdA Ironman course–an out and back along a paved trail that follows the lake. The trail has a couple of long, gradual climbs that aren’t too bad, but I didn’t want to kill my legs since I still had several hours of riding ahead of me. We did the out and back twice and realized we still had more time to tack on, so while we pondered which route to take we ran into a nice older woman with a Southern drawl and a little foo foo dog. We chatted up the woman for a bit and she gave us directions for a little loop we could tack onto our route that would take us back to Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive. The gist of the directions were as follows: Woman: “Take a right on Yellowstone Trail road, and ride along that for a while, then left on Bonnell.” Me: Right on Yellowstone Trail, Left on Bonnell. Got it.” Woman: “Have fun, y’all!” Me, to Jim: “What a nice lady!” Jim and I took off to go find Yellowstone Trail road. When we came across it, we took a right onto it and were immediately faced with a hill. I climbed it, avoiding potholes and jagged sections. Since I’m better on hills than Jim, he fell a ways behind while I continued to grind up and dodge chunks of broken pavement. The climbs were not especially fun–so much for my plan to try and save my legs from getting worn out on too many hills. Me, sweating profusely: “What a horrible woman!” The nice Southern lady with the foo foo dog was clearly a sadist in disguise, hell bent on rerouting unsuspecting cyclists onto shitty quality roads with non-stop climbing. After ascending for some time, the route flattened out and turned into a long descent. I coasted around a bend and noticed a left-hand turn up ahead, so I slowed down to read the street sign and identified the road as Bonnell. “Oh good,” I thought, and pulled onto Bonnell, then stopped so I could wait for Jim. He’d round the bend, see me at the turn and then we’d complete our little out-and-back route before heading back to the house. I waited for a bit, then saw a red shape winding around a corner. I recognized the form as Jim shooting down the hill on his Felt road bike. As he rounded the bend, I smiled and waved at him so he’d know to turn left onto Bonnell. Instead of glancing over to...

Earlier this summer I wrote about the day I finally liked swimming. It was a magical morning in A Bay on the big island in Hawaii, and I saw tons of dolphins frolicking in the ocean all around me while I treaded water for 45 minutes and marveled at how I would have missed out on such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity if I hated swimming and refused to swim out that far. My swim on Friday couldn’t have been any further from that moment in my life

So I survived Day 1 of the Ironman Canada training camp despite getting blinded and nearly being taken out by a car on the highway. I was still nursing raw eyes when I woke up for Day 2, but I was happy that I wouldn’t have to ride another 112 in the crappy heat. Unfortunately, I’d succumb to the heat in other ways, although my downfall was more due to my poor breakfast choice than the heat alone. (Still, I have to blame something other than my own dumb self, right?) With that said, let’s kick off Day 2 of my 2012 Ironman Canada Training Camp recap. Day 2: Eggs Benny is Not My Buddy My excitement for not having to swim on Day 1 was short-lived, as Day 2 started off with a 30 minute dip in Okanagan Lake. The swim wasn’t too bad, though–the water temperature was nice and I bullied a less-than-thrilled Steve to swim with me despite the fact that he’s not even training for anything (“I just like camps!”–Steven Hooper, 2012). After our dip in the lake, we had to change quickly and hop on our bikes for a 30-ish mile easy effort ride. I headed out with my peeps and immediately discovered that my ladybits wanted nothing to do with the aero position whatsoever. The crotchal region was pissed at me for yesterday’s century-plus sufferfest, so I resorted to sitting upright and catching wind like a human sail for the entire ride. My teammates left me in the dust but I was content to stay comfortable since I didn’t want a horrible sequel to Crotchfest 2012, plus I was trying to leave enough gas in the tank for my long run later that day (insert ominous foreshadowing here). When I got back to the parking lot, I was told by Teresa to rest a bit and eat a good meal before the team was going to start their run workout. She wanted us all to wait until the afternoon to begin running so we could hit the course at the hottest part of the day. Since we had a decent amount of downtime, we could eat a legitimate lunch. Teresa, however, being all Cautious Coach, gave us some guidelines for eating. T: “Eat something light and easy on your stomach before your long run. It’s going to be hot and you don’t want to aggravate your system.” My interpretation of what she said: After a full day of workouts Friday and two hours of workouts already under my belt on Saturday, my body was in a perpetual state of feeling ravenous. Jason and I wandered around trying to find a place to eat and ended up at the resort hotel/casino restaurant overlooking the lake. Waitress: “What can I get you?” Me: “Can I get the potato hash?” Must eat smart! Long, hot run ahead! Waitress: “Sure thing.” *scribbles it down* Jason: “I’ll have a blueberry smoothie and eggs Benedict.” Me: “Ooh, that sounds good.” The waitress left but returned after a few minutes. Waitress: “I’m sorry, we’re out of the potato hash. Can I get you something else instead?” Me: “Screw it, I tried. EGGS BENEDICT, PLEASE!” My meal consisted of eggs Benedict (ham, poached eggs, English muffins, and Hollandaise sauce which is made from craploads of butter, lemon, and egg yolks), breakfast potato wedges, ketchup, generous sips of Jason’s dairy-rich blueberry smoothie, and chunks of buttery croissant that we got as a side order. The stomach felt great since it was all full and happy. By the time we got done eating, we pretty much had to return back to the hotel...